


Homecoming

by Firelight_and_Rain



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Domestic, Explicit Sex, F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 05:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firelight_and_Rain/pseuds/Firelight_and_Rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond forgets to make dinner for his world-traveler girlfriend. She is very disappointed. However will he make it up to her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Derrm](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Derrm).



> This was written as a gift for an offline friend, and I'm pretty proud of the results. This is probably set fairly late in the franchise. Probably after whatever games are currently out? (Which I have not actually played, myself).
> 
> Specific tags for the sex scene, which I'll put here:  
> Mild/soft femdom  
> Pegging  
> Orgasm denial  
> Oral sex

Desmond skimmed over the first page of his magazine for the tenth time in as many minutes, and then checked the clock.

Still no Emmy. Emmy was supposed to be at the tower where they’d moored the blimp by now. He’d already waited - what? About a week? while she pursued her latest assignment from the World Times, and that was far too long.

Ah, well. She was a very busy woman.

Desmond went back to completely failing to read his newspaper and so also failed to notice when his partner finally boarded the Bostonius and entered the kitchen.

“Des?” Emmy asked, throwing her bright yellow jacket over one of the chairs, reaching back to let her thick brown hair free from its ponytail. The minute Desmond heard her, he threw his magazine down on the table, stood, and embraced her. Emmy laughed and wiggled one arm under his jacket to hold him close, the other going to the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. Desmond obliged enthusiastically, even when she decided to bite at his lower lip. After a moment’s contemplation, Des moved his hands to her waist, strong and warm and pliant. Emmy smiled against his mouth and moved her lips against his in one more messy hi-I’m-home kiss before releasing him and stepping back. Des left his hands on her waist.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Emmy asked brightly.

“Uhm,” Desmond said, mind going blank for a moment. “I’m sorry, I forgot to make dinner?”

“You were waiting up on me, weren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s alright,” Emmy said, patting his cheek reassuringly. “I’ll make dinner. You’ll just have to make it up to me later.”

Desmond agreed hastily, following at her heels to steal hugs while she prepared dinner (at least until she told him off for getting in her way and to go back to reading or something).

*

After dinner, they retired to the bedroom. Desmond waited on top of the covers in nothing but his underwear while Emmy was in the bathroom. 

She opened the door and leaned against the frame, grinning wolfishly at him. His skin flushed and his breath faltered pleasantly at the sight of the thick phallus jutting up from her pubis. “So,” Emmy asked brightly, “are you ready to make it up to me yet?”

“Yes,” he said. “Please.”

“Good.” She walked over to the bed with the same stride she always used, powerful and energetic. She climbed onto the bed and Des let himself be rolled onto his back, where she sat across his thighs, placing a hand on his soft stomach, drinking him in with her dark eyes. He was pretty sure that his blush pleased her just as much as it usually did, going by her grin. She moved up his body and lay down on him, kissing him softly, her full breasts dragging against his skin, his half-hard cock brushing against the softness of her inner thigh. When she began to kiss him harder, he yielded, trying his best to please her, eager to open up beneath her. Desmond had never really been a fan of making out. It was, frankly, a bit too messy to be appetizing, and Desmond Sycamore was not a messy man. But he loved to feel Emmy’s enthusiasm, loved how he could feel her hard power even when she kissed like she liked to. So Des would never complain about making out with Emmy.

His mouth was sore when they finished.

She sucked on his neck, laving her tongue over the bruises she left to hear his breath catch, before sliding off of him to sit next to him. “So,” she said. “Am I going to get to fuck you?”

“Of course. I want you to. If you want to.”

She beamed at him again. “Of course I want to, Des. But I have another idea. Well, another idea, too. I’m still going to fuck you.”

“What’s the idea?” he asked, certain that he would enjoy it, whatever it was.

“I’m going to fuck you, and also, you’re not going to come until I tell you to. And then you’re going to eat me out, if we’re still up to it, because this harness makes it really difficult to get off.”

Desmond had one arm looped around where she sat on the bed and was stroking her thigh. “OK. Should I have a safeword?”

“Good idea.”

“I’ll go with ‘debitage’.”

“I don’t know what that is, so that works,” she said with a laugh.

“It’s the waste materials of -”

“Shut up,” she said, and shut him up with another hard kiss. “Stay here.”

“Absolutely nothing could get me to leave right now.”

She shot him a sly smile over her shoulder as he admired the curve of her soft ass.

She rummaged through a bedside drawer and returned to the bed with a bottle of lube, a cock ring, and a rubber glove. Emmy playfully pushed at Desmond, who rolled onto his front. She sat in the curve of his back to guide his hands to the headboard and curl his fingers for him around the spokes, an unspoken promise, before moving back between his legs and kissing the curve of his ass. At her hot breath on his sensitive skin all the breath went out of him in a rush. He could almost feel her delighted smile. Her fingers curved into the flesh of his ass as she pulled to one side. There was the tiny snick of the lube bottle being uncapped. The cool liquid was smeared down the crack between his cheeks, the heat in his skin pricking up to meet it, and he shivered. Emmy’s ungloved hand gripped his hip and pulled at him until he shifted to his knees, and her other hand, slick and cool, reached around to slip the cock ring around him. Desmond groaned, thinking that by the time they’d had their fun he might have bit straight through his lower lip. Emmy’s gloved hand returned to his ass and pressed against his entrance. He pressed his face into his pillow as she pressed into him, rocking out and in as she went.

After she’d prepared him - long minutes of Desmond shaking with sensation, Emmy silent in the concentration of a job done well - she left the bed to discard the glove, which Desmond thought was far too long to go without Emmy touching him. When she returned, she knelt behind him, running her hands along his sides and then under his body to tease at his hardened nipples. The noises he made in response started surprised and turned appreciative. She mouthed at the back of his neck and then leaned back. He couldn’t see what she was doing, but when the head of the dildo pressed into the crease of his ass, he could certainly tell.

“Are you good?”

“Yes,” he replied, already a little breathless.

“Good.”

She gripped each cheek in one of her strong hands and spread him open, pressing the head of the dildo steadily into him. His mouth fell open as he panted blissfully into his pillow. This part was his favorite. The way she worked at him until they fit together perfectly, the blunt push and pull sensation as she drove into him by increments. “Ahhh. Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah?” she prompted, eager.

“You’re so,” a deeper thrust that time, breaking up his words, “strong.”

“And you love it,” she purred, her strong hands wrapped around him, one on his shoulder, another gripping his side, as she cleaved to his back, the long muscles in her torso working as she worked him open.

“Yes. Ah. Yes, I do.”

They fell into a silent rocking motion, like the tides, for some immeasurable time. Des welcomed every twinge of bruise-sensation lacing the bone-deep suffusing pleasure like the spice in a meal, and whimpered pathetically when Emmy set her hands on his hips and withdrew, moving in small rocking motions meanwhile that sent more waves of pleasure through him.

But he didn’t beg her to keep fucking him. That wasn’t his role in this little game of theirs.

“You can stop looking at the wall now,” Emmy said.

Desmond let go of the headboard - moving slowly, trying to think instead of just feel again - and turned around to face Emmy, laying on his stomach on the bed. And biting his lip again when his aching cock pressed against the bedsheets. He wouldn’t beg, but his expression did for him.

“Oh, poor you,” Emmy laughed, stroking his hair like he was her pet. She was wearing a full-body blush, her irises appearing pure black and her nipples hard and peaked. Her chest rose and fell quick and soft, and Desmond bit back a whine in anticipation of what he very much guessed she wanted next.

“One second,” Emmy said, slipping out of her harness and tossing it on the floor. She spread her legs for Desmond, leaning back onto her elbows and looking down over her curves to him with a cheeky grin.

“Oh, yes, poor me,” he said, wittily, or his best possible attempt at it, given the circumstances, and crawled towards her across the bed. She rested her heels against the broad plane of his back once he reached her and reached down to tousle his hair again.

“Hands where I can see them, Des.”

He reached his hands under her thighs to place them on her hips, near her waist. He looked up to meet her expectant gaze one more time before bringing his mouth to her labia, the thick, sweet musk of her filling his nose. He turned his head to press a kiss and a small nip to her inner thigh, where the skin was thin and soft. He licked along the puffy, sensitive edges of her labia before plying the tip of his tongue into her, up along the slick track of folds to her clit.

Her breath was flat and labored with pleasure, and she gave a harsh cry when he started to apply teeth.

Desmond found that he very much wanted to close his eyes, encompassed by his partner’s strong thighs on either side of his head and her warm, slick, soft core, but each time he stroked upwards with his tongue, nose resting in the black curls of her pubic hair, he instead stole a long look at Emmy, head thrown back against the sheets, dark eyes unfocused, huffing out small giggles at the overwhelming sensation, one hand strangling the sheets, the other rubbing at her own breast.

When, after more long minutes of this, she tensed, her thighs pressing down on his shoulders and her heels fluttering against his back, he kept licking into her, long presses gentler before, but she quickly reached down to push him away anyway. He pressed a closed-mouth kiss to her lower stomach before wiggling back to kneel, looking down at his beautiful partner in her afterglow. The motion reminded him of the sore ache in his ass - something that he hadn’t counted on when they first started doing this, something it’d taken a bit to get used to, as much as you ever got used to feeling like you’d been wrung out like a hard-used wet cloth, and he really shouldn’t have been surprised when it had started to be one of his favorite parts of sex. His hand mindlessly went to his own near painfully neglected erection, and Emmy’s eyebrows shot up as she gave him a warning look.

“Sorry,” he said guiltily, thinking that he might have to sit on his hands.

She rested her head on her upturned palms and looked at him consideringly with a pleased glint in her eyes. “Give me a minute,” she said with a yawn, luxuriating, “and I’ll lend a hand. But you can go ahead and get started without me.”

*

Emmy cleaned up after them and tucked them both into bed, pulling Desmond to lay back against her chest (which made for a vastly superior pillow).

“That was definitely worth having to make dinner,” she said.

“Always happy to help, Miss Altava.”

“I know. Say, do you want to see my new photos that I took for the Times?”

But Desmond was already drifting off to sleep.


End file.
